Who's Bright Idea Was This?
by FlyingSealion
Summary: The Bad Touch Trio go out drinking, leaving their charges, along with America and Italy, home alone. This won't end well...
1. Good bye, and good luck

This story is not meant to be historically accurate **_at_ all.** I know that by the time Germany was unified America was already a country. I also know that cars, refrigerators, and electric lights were not invented yet. I don't care. This is only supposed to be funny (something I probably failed at epically). So don't take the inaccuracies to seriously, ok?

I put the translations at the end.

I DON'T OWN HETALIA! (do you have to rub it in?)

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><p>"Yo, Francis, Tonio, hurry it up a little! You noobs take <em><span>forever<span>_." The albino personification of Prussia leaned against the door, tapping his foot and glaring at his best friends.

"Relax mon ami. We have plenty of time to get ready." One of the supposed 'noobs' said, straightening up. France tucked a stray strand of his long wavy blonde hair behind his ear, before turning back to the colonies that he had been lecturing a moment ago.

"and Alfred, no feeding Kumajiro chocolate, he got sick last time you did that. If we're not back before 6:30 eat something from the refrigerator, Germany can show you. Eat _at least one vegetable! _Angleterre will have my head if he finds out you've been eating nothing but junk. Not that his cooking is any better…"

The Frenchman's musings about his rival's cooking were abruptly cut short as a certain Prussian's patience ran out. He grabbed the other country's arm and began dragging him to the door, yelling at his other friend that he had "three minutes to get his unawsome butt in gear" before he came back for him.

France somehow managed to shout over this. "Je t'aime Matthieu, être bon! Aucun combat vous deux!"

Matthew Williams, also known as Canada, nodded after his father figure. His brother America however, was much more absorbed in snickering at Romano, who was in the middle of prying an overly clingy Spain off of him while his twin Feliciano watched with interest.

"It's alright Lovi~ I'll be back soon~" The Spanish brunette crooned happily.

The answer to this however, was a nasty glare that didn't fit at all on the seemingly 10-year-old's face. "Let go tomato bastard! You can't just leave me with these stupid idioti! I'm almost out of tomato juice, and they don't have any more!" At the last argument he waved his tomato patterned water bottle in the Spaniard's face.

"Ve~ Lovi you shouldn't yell at big brother Spain! This isn't so bad." North Italy clapped his hands together happily. "I know! We should go make pasta! Pasta makes everything better!"

The older boy scowled at his brother. "Shut up fratello! I was talking to the tomato bastard!" he turned back to the still smiling costal country "I refuse to stay here. You can't change my mind!"

Spain just chuckled and ruffled Romano's hair. "Oh Lovi, you're so cute! You'll be fine, and we'll be back soon. I'll bring you tomatoes~"

The southern half of Italy muttered "You better" under his breath as the door flew open and Prussia strode back in. Without a word he grabbed his friend and headed out the door again.

No one noticed the 6-year-old blonde that slipped out after him.

"Bruder," Germany began after the albino succeeded in shoving Antonio into the car "I don't think this is a good idea."

"Relax West." He replied with his signature smirk. "We're just going out for a bit. You're a country, you can take care of yourself."

"Well, yes, but…" the small nation hesitated, glancing over his shoulder back towards the house he and his brother shared. "I don't even _know_ the others. They're all older than me too. What am I supposed to do if they start wrecking stuff?"

"We've been over this West. The angry brunette is Romano, he works for Spain. The happy one that looks like him is Italy, we're looking after him for Hungary and Specs. The quiet blonde is Canada, and the one with the hero complex is America. I've told you about them. If they try anything just tell them your awesome bro will kick their butts, and if that doesn't work…" Prussia broke into a sadistic grin. "…I have some of Eyebrow's scones in the cabinet. That'll stop them in their tracks."

Before Germany could respond to that, France rolled down the window.

"Prusse! Now who is taking so long? I thought you were in a hurry?"

"Ja, ja, give me a minute Frenchie." The white haired country rolled his eyes "Just relax West. Have some fun for once in your life. Oh, and feed Gilbird for me will you? Auf Wiedersehen!" With that he plopped into the driver's seat and drove away.

Germany stared gaping after the car for a long moment, trying to figure out what the _**heck**_ just happened. Ok, so his older brother ditched him to go out drinking with his friends, which was fine. He did that on a weekly basis anyways. But this time he had left him with three (or was it four? he couldn't remember.) older countries, all of whom he had heard not-very-flattering things about, America especially. The boy was only a little older than Ludwig himself, and was just a colony, but everyone it seems knew some story or another about the so called 'new world'.

The young nation was struck with a sudden desire to go hide out in Austria's house for the rest of the day. He and Hungary were off who knows where, and there would be no hyper English colonies or grumpy Italians there. The idea was looking better and better until he remembered all his stuff was in the house with potentially destructive others, and that he had to feed Gilbird anyways.

With a sigh he dragged himself back up the driveway. No sooner had he opened the front door however, than a hand darted out, grabbed the front of his shirt, pulled him inside, and slammed the door. Two wide blue eyes peered out at him.

"…Are they gone?" A voice whispered.

The German stared confused for a few seconds before he realized they were talking about the three that just drove away. "Ja" he replied, wondering why they were whispering; and who turned the front hall light off? He couldn't see anything besides those eyes.

A white smile suddenly joined the hovering blue orbs. The figure turned and yelled "Alright! Turn on the lights Mattie! The forces of evil have fled! I am the hero! Whoo-hoo!" With that he swiftly locked the door, before sprinting into the living room yelling "I am the hero!" and waving his arms.

For the second time in five minutes Ludwig found himself with his mouth hanging open. "Was die?"

Someone chose that moment to turn on the lights. He blinked in the sudden brightness before glancing over to see who turned it on. His eyes met those of a boy who looked so much like the one who just run off, he thought for a moment he had learned to teleport.

Canada smiled slightly, his arms tightening around the small bear he held. "Sorry about that." he murmured, his voice barely auditable. "England's pretty strict with him, so Alfred goes a little crazy when there isn't anyone watching." The older blonde cocked his head to the side thoughtfully. "Actually, now that I think about it, he does it when people are watching too."

No sooner had he spoken then a loud crash came from the living room, followed by a yelp and a stream of Italian curses. Germany paled, mentally running down a list of all the breakable things in that room before darting towards the sound of the noise.

It was going to be a long day.

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><p><strong>Translations (Let me know if they're wrong):<strong>

**Je t'aime Matthieu, être bon! Aucun combat vous deux!= I love you Matthew, be good! No fighting you two!**

**idioti= idiots**

**Prusse= Prussia**

**Auf Wiedersehen= Good bye**

**Ja= yes**

**Was die= what the**

So... did I fail? Please reveiw!

-Sealion


	2. Way to many censors

I didn't mention this last time, but each chapter will be centered around one person's point of view. Last chapter was Germany (though I may get back to him later), so this time it's Romano's turn!

Warning: this chapter contains Romano's mouth, spilled pasta, and historical inaccuracies.

I STILL DON'T OWN HETALIA! (I mean, the website is called **fanfiction**.net, I think you can figure that out.)

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><p>Romano was about ready to bite someone's head off.<p>

The day had started off normal enough: he had been woken up by Spain at 9:00, as usual, and told that he needed to start cleaning, also nothing new.

Knowing that he'd get no peace until he at least _pretended _to do what the dumb Spaniard wanted, he had gotten up and put on the stupid dress they made him wear. (He's a boy, damn it, why did people always dress him up as a girl?)

After that, he'd made an even bigger mess of the house, just to piss the tomato bastard off, and settled down for a nice siesta. Half an hour later he'd been woken up by said bastard and informed that: "You need to get up Lovi! We're going on a trip to meet some friends of mine! Won't that be fun?"

That, of course, didn't sit well with the small Italian.

At all.

He'd kicked, and screamed, and cursed, and cried, but in the end none of it had made any difference. Spain had quite calmly thrust a water bottle of tomato juice at the smaller brunette, before dragging him to the car and throwing him in the back.

And so, a few hours later, he found himself stuck in a house that smells too much like potatoes and beer. To make things worse, he had to deal with his idiot fratello, some bastard yelling about heroes, and a blond German who looked too much like HRE for his liking. There was probably someone else to, but he couldn't remember who and didn't really care.

They were probably a bastard anyways.

His day really didn't get any better when the hero bastard charged in yelling. Of course he wasn't looking where he was going either (idiot), and slammed into his fratello. This spilled the fresh bowl of pasta _everywhere _(what a waste!) and put them in their current position:

1. Italy was sitting on the floor sobbing about how much trouble he was going to be in, and about how big a mess he made (aside from the sauce and noodles, the glass bowl had shattered), but mostly about how all the pasta was gone.

2. Romano found himself with a piece of the bowl in his foot, and was completely covered with tomato sauce.

3. The blonde bastard still had not shut up.

4. Judging by the hurried footsteps coming from the front hall, the Holy Rome look alike was about to make an appearance.

Then all hell broke loose.

"You *censor*, you are a *really long censor*! I'm going to *another really long censor* you for this you *censor*!"

"You can't do that, I'm the hero!"

"Waaaaaah! My pasta!"

"What's going on in here?"

"That *yet another censor* made my brother cry! That's what happened! He also spilled all the pasta, the *still another censor*!"

"I did not! And I'm not a *censor*!"

"*Sniff*… Yes you did! And what's a *censor*?"

"…You're an idiot fratello."

"Ve~ I am not!"

This last comment was paired with the infamous 'kicked puppy look', which rendered the older Italian unable to argue. Not entirely sure what to do now (and silently cursing his brother for being so cute) he slumped onto the tomato covered couch and settled for glaring at the German.

The bastard was staring in complete horror at the carpet, muttering franticly under his breath in his native language.

Something about "Preußen wird mich umbringen", Romano didn't really care.

He also didn't notice when America slipped out of the room carrying a very familiar water bottle…

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><p><strong>More Translations!<strong>

**fratello= brother**

**Preußen wird mich umbringen= Prussia is going to kill me**

**Let me know if these are wrong!**

For those of you who are wondering, I have no idea where Italy got the pasta. He's Italy, buckets randomly fall out of the sky just to hit him on the head. The laws of physics don't apply to him.

Also, there's a story called Don't Make Him Cry! by WhyNotMe (which is excellent by the way) that basically says that Romano hates Germany becuase he looks like HRE, who always used to chase his brother. I used that theory some here.

Anyways, love it? Hate it? Think I can't write humor to save my life? Let me know in a review please!

-Sealion


	3. The Hero's hunt

America's turn! What is he going to do with Romano's water bottle...

Warning: America ransacking Prussia's house, a mention of vital regions, an overdose of the word 'hero'

If you read the last two disclaimers you should know that** I don't own Hetalia.**

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><p>Alfred F. Jones practically skipped down the empty hallway.<p>

He knew this week would be awesome from the moment England told him he could visit Mattie, but France leaving them alone unsupervised? Did it get any better than that?

Sure there were the other countries/colonies, but they seemed pretty cool. The youngest one, (France had probably told him his name, but he was the hero! Who needs names?), had been very helpful in seeing if the adults had left yet.

There was that grumpy brown-haired one though. The colony frowned slightly in thought. He had been a jerk.

But he was the hero! America smiled at the bottle in his hand, revenge would be easy enough.

First though, he needed to find something.

In the next couple of minutes the blonde opened every door he could find. With the following results:

Number of locked rooms: 3

Number of bedrooms: 2

Number of bathrooms: 3

Number of closets: 5

Number of other rooms: 6

Number of cool hats: 7

Number of swords: 4

Number of Prussian flags: 11

Number of tallies on a chart marked 'Vital Regions Invaded': lost interest after 25

Number of unidentified objects: 39

Number of small birds trying to peck his eyes out: 1

Number of puppies trying to lick him to death: 1

Number of the thing he was looking for: 0

Nevertheless, Alfred didn't let himself get discouraged. (Heroes don't give up!)

After the bird and dog both ran/flew off somewhere (he would later describe how he 'heroically fended them off'), he threw open the last door in the house.

At least, it was the last door that _he_ knew about, but that's irrelevant.

On the other side was a small room, painted red and black, with a yellow carpet. A bed was pushed into the corner, and multiple shelves, filled with everything from books to dart guns to stuffed animals, lined the walls.

It was a kid's room, but it was so _clean_ that you could hardly tell. America found himself stopping to marvel for a second, before running in to search the shelves.

In about 2 minutes, the boy had found what he was looking for. He quickly shifted the weapon in his hands along with the stolen tomato juice. After fiddling with it for a few moments, he decided it was good enough.

An evil grin spread across his face. That Italian was going to regret messing with the hero!

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><p><strong>No translations this time<strong>

Wow... America came out a lot more sinister than I meant him to...

But he's still the hero, so we're good!

As for the unidentified objects, we're at Prussia's house. I'll let you decide what they were.

I should have the next chapters out soon, so if anyone out there is reading this, check back a little later.

Now, please hit the blue button down there and leave a review!


	4. Pasta, dogs, and invisable Canadians

Sorry! I meant to get this out yesterday!

Warnings: Lots of pasta, an extremely excited puppy, an angry Italian, and a small Canadian stereotype (please don't be offended!)

Guess what? I STILL DON'T OWN HETALIA!

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><p>Canada was torn between feeling bad for Germany, and wanting to kill him.<p>

Italy had run off to make more pasta, and Romano was still sitting on the couch, glaring at him and picking a piece of glass out of his foot. Combined with the fact that his brother had run off who knows where, the small German was left almost by himself to try to clean the room.

The emphasis was on the _almost_, but by the looks of things he'd been forgotten.

Again.

The Canadian supposed he should be used to it by now, but really? He was standing 2 feet in front of the smaller nation, holding a freaking polar bear, and practically screaming!

For the love of maple syrup, how on earth did nobody see him?

"I SAID: WHERE, ARE, THE, MOPS? I, WANT, TO, HELP, YOU, CLEAN, UP! ARE YOU PEOPLE DEAF?"

No response.

Of course, because it would be _way_ too easy for someone to actually notice him.

The French colony began to wonder if he had died sometime in the last couple of minutes. Because that had to be the only logical reason why nobody seemed to realize he was there. Then again, if he was a ghost he'd be able to pass through people, right?

Wait, there's an idea…

With a battle cry of "Avis m'a déjà!" he charged forward, ready to smack the smaller blonde over the head…

…and stopped about a foot away when he realized that what he was about to do was mean.

How come he was hardwired to always be polite when Alfred just did whatever he wanted? They were twins! Shouldn't they be alike in something besides looks? It really wasn't fair. With a sigh he settled for poking the other in the shoulder repeatedly. As it was, it still took about 5 minutes before he got a response.

"Was… oh! Sorry, I didn't see you! Um… America right?"

"It's Canada, and don't apologize." He added quickly when the younger nation opened his mouth to respond. "Do you need help?"

It was a rather pointless question considering that there was enough sauce on the ground to paint the entire room red, but seeing how (according to every non-Canadian in the house) he hadn't been in the room for very long, it seemed like the right thing to ask.

"Ja," came the relived response "the mops are in the closet. Check the first door down the hall."

With a quick nod, the violet eyed boy strode down the hall, inwardly grumbling about how he'd been asking that question for the past ten minutes.

Maybe that's why he didn't see the dog until it was too late.

It was still just a puppy really, which made it all the more embarrassing when it barreled right into him like he wasn't even there. He lay on the wood floor dazed for a moment, reflecting bitterly on how even dogs didn't notice him, before deciding to get up and figure out who was doing all that screaming.

It turns out, it was Romano.

The pup had jumped up on the couch and put its paws on his shoulders, quite happily sniffing and licking his face while the Italian screamed his head off.

"Get this demone off of me! Stop that you furry mostro! Ack, don't… Mph!"

The last part was when the dog apparently got fed up of the yelling and climbed over him to jump off the back of the couch and dart into the kitchen.

"What the hell was that thing?" The now thoroughly angry brunette shouted "This is your fault isn't it you…you…you… potato bastard!"

Germany paused for a moment from his attempt to catch the small yellow chick circling his head (Canada vaguely remembered it coming down the hallway with the dog), to stare at his accuser for a minute.

"That _thing_ is my dog. And also…Potato bastard? Where on earth did that come from?"

Before Romano could form a reply, a surprised yelp came from the kitchen, and all eyes swiveled to the door.

"Blackie." Was all the German said, before running for the other room. Lovino was right behind him, shouting for his brother. Not wanting to be left behind, Canada rushed after other two.

They all froze in shock at the scene awaiting them in the kitchen.

Italy was lying on the floor, a bowl of pasta sitting on his head, staring in surprise at the German shepherd eating from another container of the food.

It wasn't hard to see where 'Blackie' had gotten it from, the entire kitchen was filled with containers (everything from pots, to bowls, to old milk jugs) stuffed to the brim with pasta.

For a long moment the only sound was the slurping of noodles.

Then, with a growl, Romano lunged for the dog. Looking up at the furious nation, it did the smart thing: bolted.

In an instant Ludwig was out the door as well, calling out "Don't you DARE hurt Blackie you dummkopf! He didn't do anything to you!"

Matthew didn't move, still numb with the shock of all that pasta. He stood staring for a moment longer, while Italy picked himself up and turned back to the stove, and that yellow bird landed to finish the dog's food.

Then he came to his senses and realized that if he didn't stop them, the other three might kill each other.

Sprinting after them, the northern colony heard some very familiar, very obnoxious laughter. His heart sank.

"Al," he murmured to himself "you really need to work on your timing."

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><p><strong>Translations (remember, let me know if they're wrong)<strong>

**Avis m'a déjà= Notice me already**

**Was= What**

**Ja= yes**

**demone= devil**

**mostro= monster**

**dummkopf= idiot**

Ugh... I don't think that was my best work...

On another note: yay! My first review! I just want to say thank you to Crazy4animeCouples, that made my day! : )

Now if everyone else would just follow that example and click the blue button down there please!

Anyways, thanks for reading!

-Sealion


	5. Why Romano can't have a baseball bat

Hi, I'm back, please don't kill me!

Spring break ended and school started back up again, so I really didn't have much time to write. Sorry!

That and I went through a week long phase were I could write nothing but really crappy angst.

Anyways, I have it up now, so enjoy!

Warnings: an angry Italian with baseball bat, Romano's mouth, mild breaking of the 4th wall

Read this backwards: Hetalia own don't I

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><p>In the back of his mind Germany noted that this is exactly what he warned Prussia about.<p>

The three of them were tracking sauce all over the house, and that stupid Italian had picked up a baseball bat somewhere. Ludwig cringed inwardly when another shelf was toppled by a badly aimed swing.

If he made it through this day intact, he was never going to allow his bruder to bring 'friends' over again.

Crash!

Shatter!

"Put down the verdammt bat before you break something important!"

"Don't tell me what to do potato bastard!"

"Woof!"

"Stai zitto cane!"

Swish!

The blonde decided that enough was enough. Putting on a final burst of speed, he caught up to the furious Italian and shoved him into the nearest room.

Unfortunately, while this did allow his dog to dash away to safety (aka: under Germany's bed), Romano lashed out in surprise, bonking him over the head and causing him to topple into the library after the older nation.

South Italy didn't seem likely to stop hitting him once he realized what happened either.

"You *censored*! I almost caught that little *censored*, and you had to go and *you know, I could make money renting these censored spaces out*! I ought to *Subway: eat fresh*!"

Germany blinked, holding up a hand to ward off the strikes from the bat. "What was that? I couldn't hear you over the breaking of the 4th wall in the censored areas."

"What's a 4th wall?"

"I'm not sure."

The two stared at each other for a moment before Romano spoke: "What were we doing again?"

"I think you were hitting me with a baseball bat."

"Oh yeah. Take this potato bastard!"

Whack!

"Stop that!"

Germany could have sworn he heard someone telling Romano to stop, but the idea was kind of silly. After all, if there was anyone else in the room he would see them, right? Anyways, he was the younger brother of _Prussia,_ victor of both the Austro-Prussian and the Franco-Prussian wars, he could deal with one metal bat wielding Italian.

He did, with one quick kick to the knee.

While the brunette spouted curses and clutched at his injured leg, Ludwig leapt to his feet. It was then that he heard something outside the door. He frowned slightly, it sounded like someone was snickering...

Suddenly door swung open (when had it closed?), and he just caught a glimpse of blonde hair and a wicked smile before the entire world turned red.

…

After a minute the German hesitantly opened his eyes and looked at the sticky red liquid covering him.

Was that… tomato juice?

The American in the doorway bent over laughing, clutching a water gun to his chest. "Th-the _looks_ on your _faces_! It was like you thought I was going to shoot you or something!" Alfred had to grab the doorframe to stay standing.

The other two (technically three, but no one noticed Canada) stared at him, trying to decide exactly how to react to that. After a few moments Lovino decided that anger was the best choice.

"That was my tomato juice, bastard! You wasted it!"

"That's what you get for messing with the hero~" The 7-year-old practically sang.

Romano lifted his bat, and the smile fled from his face.

"Oh crap."

In about 30 seconds Germany was the only one left in the room.

He found himself wondering how, in one hour, four countries managed to completely trash a good chunk of his house, and also how on earth he was going to explain all this to Prussia.

Wait a second, Prussia? A thought struck him. Oh Gott…

Filled with dread, Ludwig very slowly turned around. Sure enough, the tomato soaked shelves behind him held his brother's precious diary collection. Almost every one of the blue books had been dyed red in the American's assault.

All remaining color fled his face, he was _so_ many stages past dead.

He ran to get a towel.

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><p><strong>Translations time! (as always, tell me if they're wrong)<strong>

**bruder= brother**

**verdammt= damn**

**Stai zitto cane= Shut up dog**

**Gott= god**

Ok, about updates. I'm going to try to update at least once a week, probably on Saturday or Sunday. If I miss a week it does not mean I'm abandoning this, just that I have writers block or something came up. My goal is to wrap this up by the end of April.

Moving on, this has gotten over 90 visitors, so thank you! Thanks especially to those of you who have alerted/favorited/reviewed! It's nice to know somebody actually likes this, you are all officially Prussia level awesome.

As for those of you who haven't yet, please leave a review and let me know how I'm doing on this!

Thanks again!

-Sealion


	6. Italy, and the attack of the front door

Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry!

Argh! I disappeared! School dumped about 10 tons of projects on me, and then exams came up, and this chapter would just _not let itself be written!_

But it's finally up, so enjoy!

Hetalia = not mine

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><p>Italy was getting a little concerned.<p>

He was glad Mrs. Hungary and Mr. Austria went on vacation. They worked very hard and really deserved it! He also got to spend time with big brother Romano, so all in all it was great, right?

On the other hand, he had dumped pasta all over the floor. The small country was almost certain he would get in trouble for that. Mr. Austria used to lecture him about wasting food.

So the Italian had set about making more food, occasionally feeding a bit to the cute yellow bird that was sleeping on his head, and trying to calm down and enjoy himself. Due to the fact that he can't focus on anything for very long, he quickly succeeded.

Italy might have actually gotten through the day with no more problems if it wasn't for the fact that _somebody_ decided that they needed to talk to Prussia.

That certain _somebody_ arrived just as the Mediterranean nation left the kitchen to go find his brother, distracting him by practically knocking the door down by pounding on it.

"Oh Пруссия~ Open the door Пруссия! I don't want to have to break it down again like I did last time!"

Feliciano stared in wonder at the door. He didn't know doors could talk! It had such a strange accent, and it said weird things too. Why would the door threaten to break itself down? Maybe it wasn't quite right in the head, the brunette decided, it couldn't be easy being a door, opening and closing all the time.

"Come now Пруссия, answer the door! I know you can hear me! Пруссия~"

Italy fidgeted, should he answer the door? It wasn't asking for him though. Who was Pru-ce-yah anyways? He must be very rude not to answer the door. Maybe he and Mr. Prussia would get along well, Mr. Austria was always saying that he was rude.

"Don't tell me you've passed out drunk already! What kind of example are you setting for Germany? I bet I could raise him better, maybe I should break in and take him with me?"

Germany? Who was Germany again? It took a moment for the small country to remember. Germany was Mr. Prussia's little brother that looked like Holy Rome, right? Why would the door take him? Where would it take him? He sighed and sunk to the floor, the door was giving him a headache.

"You don't seem to be complaining Пруссия, could it be that your pathetic excuse for a brain finally has realized that I'm right?" There was a long silence before the door spoke again. Quieter this time, as if to itself. "He's still not responding? Maybe he is not here. I will have to wait for him then. Kol-kol-kol-kol-kol-kol…"

Feli shivered at the odd noise the door made, and it quickly grew into full out shaking when some strange purple light started to seep around the doorframe. He didn't like the door, he decided, It was scary.

So of course he did what scared Italians do best: run away, screaming "ROMANO! SAVE ME!" at the top of his lungs.

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><p><strong>Translation:<strong>

**Пруссия = Prussia**

Any minute now the next chapter should be up, so I really don't have anything else to say besides sorry about the wait again.


	7. The universe hates you

Yes! Success! Two chapters in one day!

I'll probably read this later and decide that it sucks, but for now I'm just going to leave it as is.

Guess what I don't own? Hetalia!

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><p>Romano didn't really believe in karma, but he was beginning to suspect this was payback for eating all of Spain's tomatoes last week.<p>

He had finally caught that stupid tomato-wasting blonde bastard, only to have him somehow catch his bat swing and claim something about how it was his brother and not him who wasted his tomato juice. This was quickly dismissed this as a lie because no one had a sibling that looked so much like them that people couldn't tell them apart!

…He and Feliciano didn't count. Apparently it was easy to tell the difference between them once they opened their mouths.

Of course, it turned out the bastard wasn't lying. The real culprit jumped out from around the corner, and had the nerve to spray him with the juice **again** before running off.

And then_ his_ brother came flying out of absolutely _nowhere, _latched onto his side and began screaming something about talking doors, someone named Pru-ce-yah, purple lights, and how he was _scared 'and you have to save me Romano!' _And a bunch of other stuff that convinced the older Italian that he must be pretty pathetic if everyone liked this idiot better than him.

Then, because this _wonderful_ little hell he found himself in wouldn't be complete without him, HRE's clone decided to show up, carrying an assortment of red-soaked rags. Apparently the bastard must have actually listened to the northern half of Italy's yapping, because he turned and asked the stupidest question possible.

"_What_ about Prussia?"

Somehow, just like that, that one sentence managed to stop his brother from crying. (By this point, Lovino was pretty sure the universe hated him. It would have taken him twenty minutes to calm his fratello down, and this weirdo managed to do it in two seconds? How was that fair?)

"Ve~ I don't know anything about Mr. Prussia, but the front door said something about how it was going to break itself down if it didn't get to talk to Pru-ce-yah."

Romano didn't like the confused look the Germanic country gave his brother. "Ja, Пруссия, it means Prussia in-" He cut off abruptly, going pale and dropping the rags.

"In?" The cranky Italian prompted, because it was incredibly irritating when someone didn't finish their sentences. It's not like he was interested in what the potato bastard said.

Or anything like that.

Yeah.

In any case, it didn't help. The blonde simply turned and ran towards the front door, the Italians trailing after. (Plus Canada, but he was of course, forgotten.)

When they reached it, Romano let out a stream of curses that would make a sailor blush.

The entire door was a glowing purple bonfire, and a constant stream of Kol's was coming from outside it.

After a long moment, Canada spoke up. "Shouldn't we answer it?"

Germany and Romano stared at the quiet colony as if he was from mars.

"What?" came his indignant reply "It's rude to just leave someone standing at the door."

"Where the heck did you come from?" The older of the two demanded, at the same moment Ludwig said "I don't think it's a good idea to open the door when it's on fire."

"The door's on fire? Awsome!" America peered out from where he was hiding behind the coat rack.

"…How long have you been standing there and not noticing this?" Germany asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I don't know, who cares?" The older blonde replied flippantly. "So are you going to open the door or do you need the hero to do it for you?" Without waiting for an answer, he strode over and threw the door open.

The group stared.

A crazed looking Russia stared back.

"Kol?"

Italy, Romano, and Canada screamed in perfect unison and ran deeper into the house. America dove back behind the coat rack.

Lovino decided that he really had to do some rethinking on whether or not karma was real.

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><p><strong>Translations:<strong>

**I'm guessing you can figure them out.**

I'm just going to say again that I'm sorry about the long wait. Unfortunately I'm probably not going to be able to post for the next three weeks or so, but I'll try to keep writing.

Also, there won't be too many more chapters, because I feel like the quality is getting worse, and it's generally outstaying it's welcome. I'm thinking one or two more and then the Epilogue.

Anyways, please Review! It really makes my day.


	8. Who's afraid of the big bad Russian?

Could you guys let me know if there are typos in this one? It was written entirely on Doc Manager, and I don't entirely trust that it caught my mistakes.

I-ay ont-day own-ay etalia-hay

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><p>Prussia had given Germany very specific instructions on how to deal with Russia.<p>

The albino had developed an obsession with the northern country after the Raid on Berlin during the Seven Years' War, and seeing how it was one of about ten guardian-like things Gilbert had ever done, Ludwig had humored him and memorized the document.

All fourteen pages of it.

He had spent a fair amount of time since then trying to convince himself that it wasn't as nerdy as it sounded. It wasn't like it was War and Peace (which he could only recite up until the twentieth chapter, thank you very much). Really, the entire thing could be summed up in a few bullet points:

1. Russia is dangerous.

2. Do not talk to Russia.

3. Do not look at Russia.

4. Actually, don't go anywhere near Russia at all.

5. If you find yourself next to Russia without the awesome me, run.

6. Unless you have a gun, in which case feel free to empty your clip into his head first.

7. Aim for the eyes.

Amazingly, this did not seem very helpful when he was standing in the doorway of his own house staring up at the Russian. Where on earth was he supposed to run _to_ anyways? And why was the country so tall? And what's up with those purple eyes? Aren't eyes only supposed to be blue, green, or brown? But Prussia's eyes are red so-

Focus Germany.

He took a couple deep breaths to calm himself down, and tried to look at the situation like a soldier.

...A soldier that was roughly six years old in nation terms, and happened to be facing a demented almost seven foot tall empire covered in purple flames.

Abruptly, the third paragraph of page ten (titled 'how you know you're screwed') came to him.

_"...So when he's ab__out to strike he'll burst into these weird#&$ flames the color of those grape popsicles I hate. You know, the ones that taste like motor oil. But that's just a level C threat. If you REALLY piss him off (which you won't because you're the most freakishly polite kid I've ever met) he'll drop that idiotic smile he always has plastered on that stupid face of his, a__nd start making this sound like a broken engine. Kul, or kowl, or kill, or something like that. Ukraine told me it means impalement. She's actually pretty nice, makes you wonder ho__w she ended up with psychopath for a brother. I mean really, who goes around muttering about impalement? Anyway, by this point you should already be halfway to the new world, but if for some good reason (there isn't one) you're still there, the next step is for him to pull out his weapon. Creepy sadist that he is, he has about two hundred of them, but his real favorites are..."_

He was sure it went on like that for quite some time, but the blonde couldn't remember any of it. Actually, he was having trouble remembering anything besides the full color (but mostly red) photos that went with the next part.

It took the small country a few moments before he realized Ivan was speaking, and more importantly, that the flames had vanished.

"-so I thought I would stop by and visit your brother. Where is Prussia anyways? Are you having friends over?" The tall nation peered into the house.

Ludwig shifted, desperately wishing he was tall enough to block his view. "J- Nien! I mean, no! Well, I'm not, France came over to complain about something and brought some of his colonies." He lied quickly. It occurred to him that telling Russia about the situation was probably wasn't smart.

The response was a raised eyebrow. "I was under the impression Italy was under Austria's care, when did France claim it?"

Germany made a noise like a strangled cat, which he tried to turn into a laugh, but it made him break out coughing instead. "Well, ah, I think-I think France was mostly complaining about _Gilbert, _and you know how Austria likes to complain about him, so he stopped by and-and-uh-you know-yeah." he finished lamely. "They're pretty busy so maybe you should come back later."

The arctic nation laughed at his response, before reaching out and ruffling the smaller country's hair. "I like you," he announced. "It's a wonder you're Prussia's younger brother. I have a few complaints to add as long as they're arguing." He stepped around him into the house.

The German smoothed his hair back and desperately tried to cut the invader off from going further into his home. "I don't think that-"

His excuse didn't get any further than that before the coat rack fell over, and Germany found himself being saved by America and his never-emptying tomato juice gun.

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><p><strong>No important translations<strong>

We're leaving on a trip to Canada tomorrow (hi Mattie!), so probably no updates until we get back. Sorry!

Oh, and I bumped the rating up to Teen because I'm getting paranoid, and my mom has doubts about the word 'bastard'.

Anyways, thanks to everyone who has reviewed/favorited/followed, it helps keep me writing.

Please review, I love the feedback!


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